Monthly Archives: September 2013

100 things

Thanks to the lovely alece’s challenge. here is my list of 100 things about me:

1. i snort when i laugh
2. i tend to listen to the same song constantly for a week
3. then i start on a new one
4. i have one blue and one green eye
5. my eyes turn grey when it rains
6. grey should always be spelled with an “e” never an “a”
7. i got a 90 on a spelling test because of this in 2nd grade
8. i drive a blue pt cruiser named styx
9. after the river in greek mythology
10. not the band
11. i adore the look of lower case letters
12. and the sibilant sound of subtle alliteration
13. i have many scars ask where they come from and i want to know about yours
14. I believe scars have stories that shape our souls
15. i adore my record player
16. and i would love frank sinatra to serenade me
17. i believe we are called to be rescuers to hold our palms over the gaping wounds of broken people
18. i prefer the weather to be over 70°
19. so i can drive with my windows down
20. the sound of waves crashing along the shore reminds me of angels
21. thunderstorms with lightning calm my troubled soul
22. i believe eyes speak
23. and hearts are made to be broken but they learn to love again
24. i believe god does not endorse tv evangelists
25. i believe love should be bigger than intolerance
26. and trust in the wonder of being barefoot
27. i believe children always talk to angels
28. and adults have simply forgotten how
29. but a child’s laugh can heal a broken heart
30. i don’t like my food to touch
31. and two foods of the same color can’t be next to each other
32. i also rotate my plate counterclockwise to eat each food separately
33. saving my favorite for last
34. i write in my books
35. and i dog-ear pages
36. if you borrow a book of mine, i ask you to do the same
37. it’s how the author and i speak to each other
38. i organize my books by color
39. going from white to black
40. i love sending hand written letters
41. but i’m horrible at sending thank you cards
42. sandwiches should be cut into four triangles
43. and eaten from the inside out.
44. i was born in columbia, sc
45. but my heart belongs to the ocean
46. my favorite colors are blue and green
47. my first kiss was in 6th grade
48. we were sniffing paint thinner in the art room
49. i adore musicals
50. and wish everyone would randomly burst into song instead of speaking
51. the word moist makes my skin crawl
52. sequins are made by the devil
53. baking is how i relieve stress
54. it’s nothing for me to bake 20 loaves of bread in a night
55. i don’t have a sweet tooth
56. but bread is my weakness
57. water calms me down
58. i find peace in the rain
59. i don’t like talking on the phone
60. i would rather text
61. but i am slowly falling in love with voxer
62. spring and summer are my favorite seasons
63. but i love to wear sweaters and boots
64. i have recently come to love yoga
65. especially yin classes
66. it’s one of the only times my head is quiet
67. i’ve never been able to do a cartwheel
68. i don’t make my bed every day
69. i don’t understand the point
70. especially since i’ll mess it up again at night
71. but my closet is organized by color
72. and type of clothing
73. my feet have to be out from under the covers when i sleep
74. my favorite animal is a hippo
75. i like to paint
76. although more paint ends up on my legs than the canvas
77. i’ve been sober since may 31, 2011
78. i was a mean drunk
79. and life is so much better sober
80. i’ve never had a cigarette
81. i’m running out of things to say
82. but i’m a perfectionist and have to finish
83. i think sleeping in a hammock is the best thing ever
84. i’m a full time nanny
85. kids are drawn to me
86. i look down and they are surrounding my feet
87. usually asking for me to read them a story
88. jumping in puddles is soul soothing
89. i love to waterski
90. and hate to snow ski
91. i love waking up early
92. especially if i get to watch the sunrise
93. with the sound of the ocean waves crashing in front of me
94. i used to have hot pink hair
95. and i wore all black
96. i loathe organized religion
97. but i call god Papa
98. we are working on our relationship
99. i believe love is stronger than religion
100. i have five tattoos and want more

I am a writer

I’m really good at the starting. The coming up with wild ideas, the gathering of supplies, the starting. It’s the continuing and the doubt which says “I’m not good enough,” that plague my heart with fear.

From the time I was a young girl, I have been told that I am a writer; that words flow from my fingertips as naturally as breath escapes from my lips. And it’s true. I have never written because I like the way writing makes me feel; I write because I have to write. I write because the words that live behind my eyelids have to get out somehow and most of the time the easiest path for them to escape is through my fingers. And after hearing about story101 for a long time, I finally took the plunge despite my fears.

And my fears are in high gear right now:
I’m not good enough. I don’t have an audience. I’m too vulnerable. I’m not vulnerable enough. I don’t have a voice. They pound against my ears threatening to freeze my hands into silence. And when the fear that maybe I was wrong and I’m not a writer again gets loud- I hope to remember. Writing is how my heart breathes. And for that reason alone, I am a writer. And I can do this.

becoming a butterfly

“How does one become a butterfly?” she asked pensively.

“You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar.”

“You mean to die?” asked Yellow, remembering the three who fell out of the sky.

“Yes and no.” he answered. “What looks like you will die but what’s really you will still live. Life is changed, not taken away. Isn’t that different from those who die without ever becoming butterflies?”

“And if I decide to become a butter,” said Yellow hesitantly “what do I do?”

“Watch me. I’m making a cocoon. It looks like I’m hiding, I know, but a cocoon is no escape. It’s an in-between house where the change takes place. It’s a big step since you can never return to caterpillar life. During the change, it seem to you or to anyone who might peel that nothing is happening– but the butterfly is already becoming. It just takes time.”

{hope for the flowers}

the one about my daughter.

IMG_8939 {messy canvas}

I have a daughter. She would be turning seven on October 9th of this year. I dream of her sometimes, imagining what she would look like wondering if she would have my blue eyes and blonde hair. I wonder if she would love reading and get lost in the stories of my favorite children’s books. Would she giggle over puppy kisses and constantly smell of strawberries from her shampoo?

For so long, I have held her memory close to me in shame. Shame over the circumstances of her conception and the choice I made in not carrying her to term. But the more I start to deal with my grief over the loss of my little girl, I realize that while I say I want to honor her, the shame I have does the exact opposite. The shame that I have does nothing but hold her in bondage to my inner demons, and I want so much more for my child. And so I am choosing to honor her.

I am choosing to honor her memory: the weeks I carried her within me, telling stories and singing songs; the knowledge that she was a girl, knowing her name from the start; and the trust that she is in heaven with Papa, dancing in white dresses. I am choosing to honor the gift that she gave me, the gift of bearing a new name- Momma. And in the moments when I don’t know how to honor her because of the grief, I will allow myself to feel. I will allow myself to feel sadness and pain. For pain can be a subtle thing, waiting for the moments when I let my guard down before coming back again. I will tell myself that it is okay to feel the way I do. It is okay for me to miss the little girl I didn’t get to see, and it is okay for my heart to be broken. But it is not okay for me to get lost in it.

Because losing myself in the pain does not honor her, instead it takes away her value. And she is worthy of remembrance and love. She is worthy of being honored. So while I do not yet know what honoring her looks like, I will do my best to find something each day to remind mer of her: the colors in a sunrise and sunset, daffodils, and seashells. I will hold these things close to my heart and in doing so, I will be holding her.

I have a daughter. A daughter dancing in white dresses in heaven. This year, I will celebrate her birthday because she is worthy of being honored. And I am worthy of healing. I have a daughter. A beautiful daughter named Addison Cale who dances in white. 

i like to live with books.

I like to live with books. I dog-ear pages, break spines, and write in my books. The pages are frequently so heavily written in that passages of the original text become unreadable.  Coffee stains and water-damaged pages are a staple and occasionally entire sections are black out in paint-covered disagreements.  As someone who loves order and perfection, this is an odd part of my personality.  But I like to live with my books, and true living means things get messy sometimes.

I carry books with me wherever I go, especially if it is one that has caught my attention and resonates with my soul.  In those cases, I can be found reading the book at all times:  in line at the grocery store, sitting in my hammock, and even while cooking dinner.  It becomes a part of me and I become a part of it.  I get lost in the story.

Books have always been my escape, especially when everything else in my life becomes messy.  Books and the appearance of my books are the one area of chaos I can handle because I know that in the mess, the stories never change.  Alice still travels to wonderland, the Little Prince meets the fox under the apple tree, and Holden is still expelled from Pencey Prep.  The stories are familiar and the characters are my friends.

So when life gets messy, as it is right now, I find that I lose myself in words more often, usually getting lost in the books I have read many times.  Sitting in my beloved characters in the midst of their predictable chaos allows me to find the calm in my storm.

I like to live with books: dog-eared, broken spines, and coffee stained pages.

On why I don’t go to church

I have a confession to make. One that is hard to make living in the south. I don’t go to church. And I’m okay with that for now. I think I have burned out on church. Not on love and grace, but on church. Burn out looks differently for each person. For me it means not going to church in the traditional sense, but finding church in unexpected places by myself.

Taking the Eucharist with people around a table in the form of a good meal and conversation. The studio where I learn to pray and feel Papa’s touch through the hands of another. Paint and words, bringing together the messy and the broken. I had to step away from traditional to find why I fell in love with Jesus in the first place

It feels like unbelief and certainly looks that way to an outsider but it really just Papa and me wrestling. Arguing. Fighting. Loving. Getting back to the basics of why I fell in love with God. I fell in love with God because he didn’t see any of my flaws- he saw Jesus in me and somehow I have fallen away from that. I have become too concerned with wearing a mask of legalism and being perfect. And it’s killing me. I think Jesus loves sitting in the messy, and so I hope that I find him again in this process.

panic

I’m full on in the messy. Not in the pretty artful, colorful, paint covered hands messy, but the tears, cries, and shattered things messy. This weekend I was able to hold off the worst through paint and letters but it is catching up to me. The sleepless nights, nagging memories, doubts and fears are attacking at full force. And I know satan is enjoying it. I had a massive panic attack before walking into my safe place tonight. Nothing should have triggered it but panic slowly began to build up and by the time I finally left, I was still shaking. I am still shaking.

I’m still shaking and holding in so many thoughts and feelings that I am afraid to voice. I have written a few of the things down but I am terrified to give voice to them. But I know I need to because otherwise it holds so much power over me. These things that I try to run from that are starting to fight against me with a vengeance. And so I sit here, shaking, but praying and asking in the midst of my doubting.